Page 26 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

Sure, to really make that happen, I might need to start looking at my diet again. Night after night of takeout and beer isn’t helping the cause. But a guy has to have some vices, especially when his life implodes. Right?

My music cuts as the sound of my front doorbell erupts.

“Fuck,” I grunt as I drop the dumbbells to the floor and push to my feet.

I grab a towel from the side and wipe my face as I hobble across the room.

My knee screams at me for overdoing it, but I can’t help it. Sitting around doing nothing only leads me to a dark place. At least while I’m in here, some kind of progress is happening.

Throwing the hand towel over my shoulder, I make my way to the front door, expecting it to be my elderly neighbor who needs help with something. As long as she doesn’t want the batteries in her smoke detector changed, or anything else that involves me getting on a stepladder, we should be good.

But as I peer through the peephole, I discover that it isn’t my small, gray-haired neighbor, after all.

In a rush, I pull the door open, gawping at the person standing on my threshold.

“Sienna?” I blurt, eyes wide with shock.

I’m not about to tell her, but she looks rough. Her eyes are bloodshot, the shadows beneath them dark. Her skin is pale, almost gray, but her cheeks are flushed red, and beneath her massive hoodie, her chest is heaving.

Instantly, my eyes lift, searching for the reason she might be standing here in the middle of the night, looking like she’s just outrun her biggest fear. But any fear she might have had is swallowed by shock.

“Killer?” The nasally sound to her voice clues me in a little as to what’s going on.

“You’re sick,” I state. You know, just in case she hasn’t noticed.

“Yeah, I’m fucking sick. So if you could stop with the constant fucking noise, I’d really appreciate it.”

I frown. “W-what?”

“The noise, Calvin. The music. The banging. I haven’t been beneath you for two weeks yet, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I rest my shoulder against the doorframe.

“I think I’d remember if you’d been beneath me for two weeks, baby.”

“Ugh. You’re infuriating,” she snaps, although the tears that begin filling her eyes take the heat out of her words. “Will you p-please just be quiet? I have to go to work tomorrow and⁠—”

“You can’t go to work when you’re this sick,” I tell her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Since when did you think you have a say in what I do with my life? Do you even know what my job is?” she sneers, letting me know that she’s unaware of just how much attention I pay to anything that involves her.

“You’re the manager at the Bea Hive, Bea’s beauty salon,” I state confidently. “One of your therapists is currently off with the flu, and this week has been hard going, and it’s about to get worse, it seems, because you’ve got it too.”

“You’re an asshole,” she mutters under her breath.

I can’t help but smile at her.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Silence. I need silence.”

I nod once. “I can do that. Have you got medication? Have you eaten?”

“I didn’t come up here because I need a nurse. I just need quiet to rest.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thank you,” she breathes, before spinning on her heels and shuffling away.